


The Day of the Silver claw.

by SkekLa



Series: A thousand years have passed [2]
Category: The Dark Crystal (1982)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Morality, For podlings!, Gen, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Morally Ambiguous Character, Skeksis - Freeform, The Law is the Law, don´t contradict the Emperor, ritual punishments suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-25 00:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21108554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkekLa/pseuds/SkekLa
Summary: A fic I wrote quite some years ago to retell the way in which  skekLa came to have that characteristic silver shell bolted to her finger.





	The Day of the Silver claw.

**Author's Note:**

> Written back at 2016.  
All the lore and headcanon seen here are based off the old Dark Crystal movie (1982) and might collide in one or another way with whatever the new series´canon has introduced. I hope you´ll all enjoy the read!

The podling wouldn’t do as commanded.

The Illustrator couldn’t fathom the reasons, but it simply would not move.

-“Come on. Go!...BRING- ME- A- FLASK- OF- RED-OCHRE- POWDER. HURRY!”

The darn small thing still stood there, staring at her with round milky eyes, which seemed completely vacant.

SkekLa was beggining to feel impatient and tried to haste it with a push, which merely caused the minute, stocky creature to stagger some steps forward, and then stop.

The Scrollkeeper peered at her from the bend of the hallway.

-“Illustrator, what are you doing?”- He settled straight one of his three pairs of glasses with a nervous movement of his skeletal hands, and then snapped again: -“Get moving!...We have work to do!”-

Already pushed to the limits of her patience, SkekLa turned to the slave once more, not knowing what to do to have it obey, and in that precise moment- with a trudging noise which was characteristic to him and the usual following rumble of small, plodding feet of his slave troupe- SkekNa the Slave-Master entered through the left gate and stood in surprise at the sight he had before him.

-“Well...what do we have here?...Illustrator, is this silly thing yours, or is it wandering around aimlessly on it’s own?”- He grunted, pointing the metal hook he had for a left hand at the blank, idle podling.  
-“It IS one of mine, Slave-master...at least it was, until now. It stopped obeying a moment ago, I don’t know wh-“  
Before the Illustrator could finish her sentence, SkekNa’s whip flew from his belt and, mercilessly driven by his “good hand”, cracked upon the tiny creature’s back.

It still did not move. In fact it seemed to not even be able to sense the hit.

-“Seems BROKEN somehow. Well, I’ll get it walking, or else dispose of it right here!”-Growled the Slave-Master, rising his whip again.  
-“WAIT!” –  
The Illustrator’s squeak took skekNa by surprise.  
-“What for?...I ´ve work to do, and so do you, most likely. This failed little thing is holding you back. Why wait? I could give you another one to replace it for a reasonable price-“ This said, his whip lashed again, this time onto the motionless slave’s head.

SkekLa’s blood suddenly- unexpectedly, boiled.

Podlings were seen as objects by her kind. It had always been more or less that way.  
In the olden times, during the first trines of the Empire, the skeksis would still trade and treat with the podling villagers in exchange of offering them protection and safeguard from any possible threat, just as they did with the gelflings.  
Their culture and ways looked odd, vulgar and primitive to the ellaborate, pompous skeksis, so in time their weak bonds as neighboring races transformed into a Master and Slave dynamic , and the villagers had been submitted rather easily.  
Currently, all podling residents of the Crystal Castle where the skeksis ruled were slaves.  
The newest ones had been submitted to a process SkekTek the Scientist had recently devised to grant the renewal of the Emperor’s decaying health. He had created a machine empowered by the Dark crystal they zealously guarded at the heart of the castle, using it’s refracted light to extract vital essence from lesser beings, condensing it into an oily beverage which had succeeded into temporarily relieve the pains and ailments of the elderly skeksis, and-SkekTek suspected- probably prolonging his life.  
The podling which was now refusing to move had been drained of his vital essence long ago, and that might be the reason for it to have lost even the aptitude to move or obey.  
Like a spring toy which inner mechanics had stopped functioning all the sudden.

Whatever reason there was for her to feel bothered about it, SkekLa couldn´t fathom, neither did she question it at the time, but impulsively did what that freaky impulse drove her to do.  
Stepping forth towards the slave, she interposed between the Slave-Master’s whip and the tiny still form, causing SkekNa to shriek and release his weapon.

-“SKRAWK!...You fool! ...I almost hit you,move aside!”-  
The Slave-Master knew all too well the consequences of harming a fellow skeksis, which was punishable by the Imperial Law, unless the Emperor himself had so commanded.  
The llustrator did not move.

-“Well?...STAND ASIDE! Let me do my work!...I must get that thing to walk, or—“  
SkekLa suddenly snapped at him: -“IT’S ONE OF MY SLAVES!...I already paid for it, and don’t want to have it killed, even if it’s useless!...Leave it!”-  
SkekNa tilted his head dangerously, his only eye shining with a silent warning.  
-“ Don’t tell me you feel attached to these things...”

The Illustrator’s eyes narrowed, and her scraggly mane frazzled with odd, misplaced anger.  
-“Go, Slave-master. This slave is MINE, and I say it mustn’t be destroyed.”-

SkekNa did not even bother to reply to that, and simply stomped past the Illustrator with evident anger, shoving her for good measure as he resumed his way down to the Throne room.  
The minute slave was still standing where he had been left, a feeble trickle of blood dribbling from the wound SkekNa’s whip had drawn on his scalp.

Some lively steps echoed then through the murky passage , and another skeksis dove into the scene. It was the Ornamentalist, and he seemed extremely excited and curious.  
-“Scrollkeeper, what was all that rattle about?...I heard everything! Well, perhaps not everything, but enough of it as to be interested!”- His bejeweled talons grasped at the scrawny Scrollkeeper’s shoulders, and he shook him, demanding him to spill out the latest gossip.

-“Why did the Illustrator squabble with SkekNa that way? What was she trying to do?!”_  
SkekOk shook the Ornamentalist’s hand away from his collar and retorted : _”She decided to defend a stupid blanked podling for some unfathomable reason!...Pff. ILLUSTRATOR!”- The Scrollkeeper´s shrieky call was more than elloquent.

SkekLa closed her eyes tightly in response to that, trying to compose herself after such bizarre actions, which had left her feeling self-aware, unnerved and worried,  
not only about her own reasons to stand for a said “worthless slave” but also for the possible action SkekNa could take against her.  
-“Let’s go now” - she stated, walking to the other two skeksis and trying to appear assertive and dismissive about the former events.

-“I regret the needless delay, Scrollkeeper. Let us forget this silly little skirmish, shall we?...We´re already late for work. Those chronicles won’t write or illustrate themselves...”

Moments later, all what was left from the event in the hallway was the small, stocky podling slave.  
It had been left behind, staring at a wall with unfocused, blank expression.  
As empty as a hollow shell...  
**

Regrettably enough for the Illustrator, the Slave-Master’s reprisal for that incident did not delay into reaching her.

That same night, after the usual- abundant- dinner,the skeksis courtiers relaxed at the table and idly talked with each other.

It was then that the true gravity of the earlier events backlashed at the Illustrator.  
The Emperor had been eyeing skekLa with unusual attention, but she had come to suspect it had only been her imagination, her paranoid nature firing up due to the recent tension between her and SkekNa.  
Albeit, It wasn’t.

-“Is it true, the reprehensible thing the Slave-Master complained about?...” - Thundered the deep voice of SkekZok, the Ritual-Master, who was sitting to the Emperor’s right side.  
It was so sudden that several of the courtiers rose their gazes to peer at him.  
He was adressing at SkekLa.

-“He came to the throne room during the afternoon, to ask for an audience and tell his Lordship about your sickening malcontent to our ways. He told his Excellency that you stopped his hand before an unruly slave.”-

The Illustrator, bloated with food as she was and completely taken by surprise by SkekZok’s statements, froze in her chair with a noisy, terrified gulp.

-“Speak out, SkekLa.”- Growled the Emperor, in a voice so serene- but also so cold that it caused some involuntary shivers between the concurrence.

Feeling her heart hammering against her ribs, the Illustrator released a weak thread of voice.  
-“Sire...I...there was no need to punish or destroy that slave...I swear-“  
The Ritual-Master stiffened and indignantly rose a bejeweled talon, pointing straight at the accused skeksis.  
-“The Slave-Master knows far better than you what’s to be done with slaves. If he had said the podling ought to be punished, or disposed of, then it ought to!”-

The Illustrator seemed to slowly sink down in her seat.

The Emperor spoke again.

-“The Ritual-Master is right, so it is: no skeksis in my court shall waste their mercy in lesser, vile creatures like the podlings. However, I do not wish to lose your skills as an Illustrator, SkekLa. All our chronicles and records need embellishment, and we all have a use for some flattering portraits...besides, this was a minor trespass. I will not have you banished for this.  
You will be forthwith asked to prove your loyalty to your kin and our Empire, taking back the offense you commited. That is my decission.”-

SkekLa relaxed and wheezed with relief, believing she had dodged out any sort of punishment.  
Little did she know what the Emperor had meant with “taking back her offense.”

-“Slave-Master, bring forth one slave. Any of them will do, I cannot even tell them apart anyways”-  
A small nervous rumor of cackles and surprised gasps rose among the skeksis at their ruler´s request.

The Emperor’s words had come so swiftly, so unexpected, that the Illustrator’s eyes broadened warily when she saw SkekNa rise from his seat at the table and promptly obeyed his command.

What was happening? Would she be demanded to take back her offense now? If so, how?

Staring coldly at the Slave Master as he stood before them all, with a blank-eyed slave beside him, Emperor SkekSo straightened his imposing head and pierced through the Illustrator with a stern gaze.

-“Correct your wrong doing, Illustrator. Claim this slave’s life, in repayment of its brethren’s disobedience.”-

The Illustrator did not move. She couldn’t. Her body felt like it was stuck to the chair in which she sat, cold sweat starting to pearl her brow.

-“The Emperor has spoken! His command shall be attended immediately!”- Thundered the Ritual-Master.

SkekLa remained aghast, petrified on her seat, breathing in sharp, hissing gasps.  
The minute, hapless slave stared at her – or was it through her?- emotionless, vacant, but also terribly pityful.

She felt absolute panic running through her veins, it didn’t allow her to move.  
She knew if she didn’t heed the Emperor, things might become far worse than this, but what if she could not find the strength to do it?...she had always felt a twisted sort of pity for the podlings, even though she had given her slaves some good measured pushes and screams now and then-just as any sensible skeksis would to have them obey- she didn´t know whether she’d be able to kill one of them...

She was aware that she should just obey, maybe offer the podling a swift death, by breaking it’s fragile neck...but the sole idea of doing that made her feel sick...even when all her self-preserving instincts were screaming at her to save herself, and do it. “It is only a podling, only a slave, it´s blanked, it doesn´t even FEEL or THINK anymore...”

Rumors grew in intensity among the rest of the skeksis. These kind of eventualities would always get the concurrence´s attention and amusement.

Half-words, broken phrases, all mixed up into a hellish cacophony to the terrified Illustrator’s ears.  
-“Oh well, there go the Illuminations for my poor scrolls...!”  
-“She won’t do it. She’s always been far too soft to those little vermin...Hmmmm, oh no, the Emperor is really mad now-!”-  
-“Too bad, she was fun to talk with...but the Emperor will have her skin if she doesn’t obey.”-  
-“what do you fuss about? Others have seen worse punishments: If she goes she goes! The Ornamentalist can easily replace her at work.”-

Ringing over every voice and easily muffling them all, an aggravated roar erupted from the Emperor’s throat, intense and ferocious.  
-“Illustrator! Why do you not obey?! I was merciful to you, yet you stand against my will, in favor of that pathetic creature?! Why do you risk your position for a kind that came to refuse to willingly serve us as they once rightfully had? For an enemy?”-  
Already thinking everything was lost for her, SkekLa gathered enough courage to look straight into the Emperor’s eyes, shivering with fear and defeat.

Anxiety spiking up,common sense clouded by fear, the Illustrator felt she was already doomed, and pondered if that might be the last thing she’d say, she´d try to make it worthy.

-“Sire-I think...Podlings...and gelflings...are not truly our enemies...I think they are useful enough- for their vital essence, and for their service to us... there is no true need to unnecessarily hurt them or destroy them unless we need-- ”-  
The Ritual Master had had enough of such shameful opposition to the traditional ways of the Empire for one day, and stood with an indignant shout -“Keep your poisoned thoughts within your head, and your ill tongue behind your teeth, SkekLa! How dare you utter such BLASPHEMY in front of our lordship?!”

SkekSo thrusted forth one bejeweled hand, his gesture powerful enough to put the entirety of the court to silence.

-“You became delusional, Illustrator. You know about the prophecy that´s been written. You´re as well aware as everyone is, about the Gelflings and podlings opposing our sacred design. Ask anyone in this chamber. They all know that lessers have become our enemies, and deserve no better than the treatment we give them here.”-

Beyond her wits, unable to stop herself-and wondering whether this had anything to do with his UrRu counterpart forcing their own thoughts through her beak, SkekLa spoke again.

-“Sire...It is not the lessers, but DEATH, who is our true enemy....you KNOW this...We all do!...And...If we defeat it, if we use the remaining essence supply for you to live as much as to reach the new Great Conjunction and earn immortality, there will be no more suffering... Why should we harm the lessers? wouldn’t it be enough to harvest as many as we need to keep your essence supply plentiful?...”

The whispers of the court intensified, now fearful, thriving, ominous.

-“Sire...if--when we achieve immortality, you would not feel pain anymore!...your body would be healthy again!...we all would be strong, young and powerful once more... and then, were we safe from death and decay, we could maybe reestablish peace with the gelfling and even the podlings! They might agree to serve us willingly, as they once did!...We might need them to keep working for us when the day comes and we no longer fear the prophecy or death anymore...”-

The Emperor stood from his seat, towering, hands held high in his storming fury.

-“SILENCE! You shall not utter any more of such foul nonsense in my presence, Illustrator. Make peace with the lessers?! You´ve lost your senses! SLAVE-MASTER! DESTROY THAT SLAVE!.”-

SkekNa’s hand was swift, and his iron gauntlet closed around the podling’s neck, squeezing until there was a sordid “crack”.  
The tiny slave slumped to the floor like a mishap lump.

The entire court watched raptly, waiting for the Emperor to make a decision about the new trespass commited by their brethren.

Someone- it could be anyone- amidst the crowd, said something about "a good show after dinner".

SkekSo’s orders came dark and prompt, his words as sharp as a steel dagger’s blade.  
-“ You. Seize her.”-

His offhanded gesture had been aimed to General SkekUng, who obliged rapidly, holding the Illustrator by one arm, and forcing her to stand.

-“Deliver her to the Slave-Master.”-

Dragged forth like a willingless puppet, yet offering no resistence against the strength of her captor, SkekLa was taken to stand face to face with the One-eyed skeksis, who waited for her with visible amusement.

The pale, shivery Illustrator dared not even breathe as the General held her in place.  
The next words from the Emperor surprised most of the court, and delighted the one who had been offended:  
-“ Slave-Master, crush the traitor’s index finger. Make sure it’s her working hand. Shatter her bones. I want the injury to be permanent.”-

SkekNa did not make himself wait, and he eagerly grasped the Illustrator’s pale, knobby finger, twisting it backwards with fierce determination, until it sharply bent in an odd angle, and the sound of bones breaking snapped through the stale air of the feasting chamber.

This was not enough for him, though, and he wrung what pitiful, limp remains were left from SkekLa’s skeletal finger, until blood blurted out from the damaged talon, and the Illustrator, paler than ever,slid loosely through SkekUng’s hold and fell down on her knees with an ear-splitting shriek of pain.

Satisfied with his rendition of the Imperial orders, the Slave-Master made a gracious bow at the Emperor, and stood in patient wait of his next command.

The General remained proud and stiff to his side, and SkekLa, clutching haplessly at her destroyed finger, warbled in agony to his feet.

-“ This disgusting incident is resolved.”- Announced the Emperor, rising one proud hand as to punctuate his speech.

-“Slave-Master, your loyalty is worthy of praise. You may return to your duty now. General, you have served well. Otherwise you, Traitor”- He spat the last word with such despise that the injured skeksis shrunk into a small ball of huddled robes and limbs- -“ Stand now. Face me, and bow. You will still , by my infinite mercy and grace, remain the Court Illustrator.”-

Waddling forward to the table, SkekLa stood as straight as she could through the searing pain iradiating from her hand, and took a bow, lowering her head as humbly as she could muster.  
-“ Will you admit your wrongs, and renew your oath of loyalty to the Empire and to me? Will you observe henceforth our old, righteous ways?”-

With a thread of voice, the Illustrator managed to respond -“Y-yes, Sire...As you command...Most gracious, merciful Emperor...”-

The corollary to the incident was evident to the Ritual-Master, who took his cue and stood from his seat, declaring:  
-“This, our brethren who has stepped in the wrong path, shall be again considered as one of us when the thirthieth moons rise, from this day forth. Until then,she will be under The Vow of the Nameless. None shall speak her name or address at her by her title:any skeksis who would pronounce her name before the thirtieth moons’ rise, will incurr into our Lordship’s anger!  
May this serve as a reminder of the mercy of our Lordship towards his kin!...The pain this tainted brethren of ours will evermore feel in her finger when she’d accomplish her duty, is meant to remind her where her loyalty belongs. Her index talon, the finger of power and command, has been shattered, and so her bold blasphemy has been humbled. May her return to us as a worthy skeksis courtisan.  
Such is the Emperor’s wish. Such is the Law.”-

**  
The rest of the night would imprint a weak trace into SkekLa’s memory, barely a blurred swirl of curious faces randomly peering at her, and pain.

Some had been disdainous, and mocking. Most of them had, actually.  
She felt she really deserved it- for being stupid enough to interfere with skekNa´s work in the first place--then, to disobey the Emperor´s command. Had she simply killed that podling, her hand would not feel like it was on fire. She would not have been reduced to a state of nothingness by the "Vow of the nameless" for the next thirty days. She had certainly brought this upon herself.

There were a few skeksis who showed her as much simpathy as they dared, even though they could only referr to her as “you”, lawfully avoiding to utter her title or name, as traditionally they did with the ones who occasionally fell off from His Lordship’s grace and were submitted to the Vow of the Nameless.

Some strange days went by, alienating and painful, where work would become a nightmare to the old, worn skeksis, who found such a simple act as holding her drawing quill straight to be impossible and agonic due to the current state of her hand.

Her talon was swollen, darkened and twisted into a disgusting, wrong shape.

A week later, the scientist caught her as she wandered through the hallway leading from her chambers to the Library where she was about to present for her daily work.

SkekTek wouldn’t usually spend his time speaking with her, yet, curiously enough, he beckoned skekLa in an unusually eager manner.  
-“You. Come here.”-

The Illustrator was extremely cautious in her approach. Let it not be some kind of setup.  
-“Some of your allies came to the Chamber of life yesterday, asking me to “fix” your injury. The Ornamentalist seemed to have an interest in it, and Lord Chamberlain was most insistent.”-

SkekLa was rather taken aback. She had always been closely bound to the Chamberlain- helping him spy, gathering information for him, and standing to his favor in any required situation. Even being as self-serving and treacherous as he could be towards most others, It was not that hard for skekLa to think that he might still want to aid her...she was useful and close enough to him after all. However, the Ornamentalist?... She found it difficult to believe he would want to have anything to do with someone “in disgrace”, even if that someone was a member of his allegiance.

-“Oh, did they?...Hm. I would’ve never dared ask you to relieve it, Mylord. His Lordship was clear about wanting me to suffer to remember my trespass...and I’m far too much in disgrace to neglect his last command.”-

The Scientist scoffed, and the peering-lens he had fitted over his right eye flared with an amused glare.  
-“Stop the nonsense, Illustrator!...Come. Your allies and I have something for you.”-

Emmiting a small strangled yelp, SkekLa took her pained hand to her beak in a horrified gesture.  
-“Mylord! The curfew! Don’t speak my-“

SkekTek cut her short, abruptly, with the dismissive shaking of a hand.  
-“Who could have heard me here, besides you and myself, SkekLa?...Nothing´s going to happen to you or me. I don’t care about false omens or nonsensical rites, as long as I see no logical reason into them. The “Vow of the nameless” isn’t but a stupid formality devised to scare off the weak-minded among us. Come now. I’ve no time to waste.”-

The air was pungent and thick within the Chamber of life.

SkekTek’s test animals, crammed mercilessly into wicker cages, fouled the place unwillingly with their acrid fur and hide odors, and the bitter stink of chemicals flooded what the animal effluvium didn’t.

The Ornamentalist was waiting in a corner, holding a perfumed silken handkerchief against his beak to prevent himself from having to suffer the stench.  
By his side, the Chamberlain wrung his hands impatiently- whimpering, as usual.

SkekLa greeted them in a bizarrely obsequious manner, observing the curfew in spite of what the Scientist had just told her, in case her allies would rather not risk a trespass.

SkekTek grinned eagerly, limping to her with something silvery thing clutched in his gloved hands.  
He held out the object so she could observe it.

-“Lovely, isn’t it?...the Ornamentalist designed the protective shell for you, and I devised the system of small bolts which will attach it to your finger permanently, so it can keep straight again for you to use it.”-

SkekLa took the artifact in her left -good- hand. It was a metallic shell, crafted with three long articulate sections, ending in a conical, sharp point.  
It looked much like an undersidely-hollowed talon.

Not knowing what to make of it, the Illustrator peered at the other skeksis.

-“Will this be ...pinned into my finger, Scientist?...”-

SkekTek bobbed his head affirmatively.  
-“Through flesh and bone. What’s left of it, anyways. It will not be without pain, but it will have to work.”-

Seeing the horrified gaze SkekLa was throwing at her allies, the Scientist guffawed and taunted her.  
-“Don’t fret. Any pain from the proceedure will not last long!...Do you not want your hand to work properly again...?...”  
**

-“I think it favors you. Look how it adorns your hand so nicely! I ponder I did a splendid job at it’s utility and it’s easthetics as well!”-

The Ornamentalist seemed to fluff up with pride as he examined SkekLa’s “new finger”, seeing as it feebly shone under the warm light of the kitchen´s shinestone lamps with an eerie, silvery twinkle.

-“Hmmmm, I see SkekTek truly made a worthy effort into it. I paid him more than enough but I didn’t think he would make such an accomplishment!...Hmmm. I’m happy for you. Now you will regain your skills and draw again with the same crafty hand as before. Ah, yes: don’t you forget you´ll need to do me some favors AND draw me a flattering portrait in repayment when those bolts scar properly, hmm? you owe me at least that”- Mused the Chamberlain as the Illustrator slowly tested her metal talon, flexing it slowly and wincing with lingering pain as she did so.

All of a sudden, a small, twisted smile drew itself across SkekLa’s beak.

She turned and, without warning, embraced both Chamberlain and Ornamentalist.

It was extremely brief, clumsy and quite awkward, but also very meaningful, rare as any affection display between courtisans was.

Releasing them, SkekLa beamed at them, eyes full of a fierce pride.

-“Thank you. You two ...gave me back my hand.”- She stammered, pressing her restored talon to her heaving chest.

-“ Ornamentalist, I will see to promote and praise your skills at art, whenever possible, and in any way I can!...And you, Lord Chamberlain...”- She lowered her voice into a confidential whisper- -“My dearest ally...I promise to sharpen my senses, and put all efforts into aiding you debunk your detractors and rise in the Emperor’s favor. I shall find my ways to be all eager eye and willing ear to your service, my liege...and you will rise where I cannot!. I promise.”-

The Ornamentalist smiled expressively, joining his taloned hands in a flare of delight, and nodded with pleased agreement. "That´s delightful, darling! Even though my art does not need for propaganda- everyone knows how talented I am!..."

The Chamberlain whimpered his consent, bearing an ample smile, and said nothing.

-“OH here you are! Well, you!...Come, already!...I need you to illustrate the new corner-frames for the Scientist’s last herbarium !”- Called out the Scrollkeeper- his long, pointy face peeking from the kitchen’s door, where the other three skeksis had been reunited.

-“Yes Mylord, rightaway”-  
SkekLa gave a swift turn and limped towards the doorway, following the small, lean skeksis who watched her with a curious frown in his scaly brow as he straightened one of the multiple pairs of seeing-glasses upon his long snout.

-“Hmmm, shall we meet again here, at dying sun, for more talk.”- Dared the Chamberlain, rising a hand to salute skekLa as she dissapeared through the stone arch of the Kitchen’s gate.

The Gourmand, who had also been there all the time- stirring a big cauldron filled with some thick, aromatic concoction, placed his wooden spoon on the nearest table, and scratched his head.

-“Alright...who wants to be the first to try my new nebrie cheese soup?”-

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that these fanfictions are meant to take place in an Alternate Universe where certain things might differ from canon. Albeit, this is heavily based off the classic Dark Crystal movie (1982) and some of the canon and characterisations might sound off to anyone who´s not watched the movie (given how certain things were retconned and/or changed by the recent Netflix series)  
All the canon lore and recogniseable characterisations for canon characters within this fic are based off the classic movie (1982) and its associated 80´s book lore and/or Legends of the Dark Crystal (2007). 
> 
> ****Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, all Dark Crystal canon characters and events etc. are the property of their respective owners (Brian Froud, Jim Henson and everyone who worked in the making of the Dark Crystal). The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author (SkekLa) is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.****


End file.
